Anything But Goodbye
by AnEnduringHope
Summary: Fallout from the Season 9 finale. "Abby knew it was her turn, but she couldn't make her feet move. It was a bad dream. It had to be. Surely if she pinched herself she'd wake up and none of this would be real. McGee would be fine. He'd be sitting at his desk pecking away at his computer or helping her in the lab or even out on a case… anywhere but here."


**All usual disclaimers apply. I don't own NCIS… if I did, McAbby would still be a for real item instead of just something they tease us with every now and then!**

* * *

The whirring sound of the machine forcing air in and out of McGee's lungs was all that broke the silence of the hospital room. Abby stared dazedly at the thin figure barely recognizable on the stark white sheets. Tubes and wires protruded from his body seemingly everywhere that the bandages didn't cover his skin. He was a mass of lacerations, bruises and burns. The steady beeping of the monitors told them his heart was still beating, but only barely. And not for much longer.

McGee's family had made the decision to remove him from all artificial life support… to let nature run its course. After numerous rounds of surgery and every conceivable test, the doctors had determined that he had little to no discernible brain function. They could keep his body alive, but everything that made McGee "McGee" was likely already gone.

Deep down inside, Abby knew Tim wouldn't want to be dependent on machines to keep him alive. It wasn't fair to him to keep him stuck in the balance between life and death… a prisoner inside his own body. Deep inside, she knew that, but the knowing didn't make the reality any easier. McGee's parents, his sister, his grandmother all stood outside the room, giving them a chance to say their goodbyes.

It felt like it was happening to someone else as they gathered around his bedside. Gibbs was first. He laid his hand on the top of McGee's bandaged head. His face was raw and pained. And Abby had to look away. Gibbs wasn't supposed to ever wear that expression. He wasn't supposed to fight back tears. He was _Gibbs_. He always had a plan. He always fixed whatever was wrong. But he couldn't fix this. None of them could.

"Dearing won't get away. I promise you that," Gibbs rasped. "Fair winds and following seas, Tim," he whispered, barely even audibly, after a long moment of silence.

Reluctantly, Gibbs stepped back and Tony took his place, his eyes red and conspicuously wet. The hand that wasn't resting in a sling, he laid on McGee's shoulder. For several beats of the heart monitor, Tony said nothing. His throat worked as if to speak, but he couldn't force the words out. "Say hi to Kate… and to Jenny for us. Tell them how much we miss them. G'bye, Probie." His voice broke then, and with one final squeeze to McGee's shoulder, he stepped away.

Ziva hobbled on her crutches to him next, balancing herself carefully to bend down and kiss his forehead. Tears tracked down her cheeks silently, but she made no move to hide them. "Farewell, my friend," she whispered, tears thick in her voice. "We will miss you."

Abby knew it was her turn, but she couldn't make her feet move. It was a bad dream. It had to be. Surely if she pinched herself she'd wake up and none of this would be real. McGee would be fine. He'd be sitting at his desk pecking away at his computer or helping her in the lab or even out on a case… anywhere except in this cold, bleak hospital bed.

Outside of the nightmare she was currently trapped in, surely he was all right… but she'd hug him extra hard when she woke up just because. He wouldn't ask why. He might look at her funny, but he'd hug her back just the same. Just because he'd know she needed it. McGee always knew. She didn't know how he did. He just did.

Now if she could just make herself wake up. She shut her eyes tight and dug her fingernails into her palm. Hard. She felt the sting. But when she opened her eyes, nothing had changed.

"Abs," she heard Gibbs' voice behind her, gently urging. "It's time."

She tried to make her feet move. She really did. But they wouldn't budge. It was like they were glued to the floor. Not just glued. Crazy glued.

_She could hear footsteps running towards the lab, rushing faster and faster. She cowered further under the desk. Fear made her heart skip and stutter violently in her chest._

"_Abby!" It was McGee. He sounded breathless as he ran toward her. "It's okay. You're…" There was a thud before he could complete his thought. He fell hard as his shoes stuck fast in the trap she'd set for her potential attacker. He'd been running so fast, he ran right out of them… and faceplanted on the floor right in front of her._

_He glanced back to see what had caused his fall and then looked back at her with wide, disbelieving eyes. "Again with the crazy glue?" he asked, exasperated._

"_Consider yourself lucky!" she told him. "It was either that or hydrochloric acid."_

_He shook his head, picking himself up off the floor. She knew he wasn't really mad. He never got mad at her._

"Abs," Gibbs tried again, breaking through the haze of her memories.

Mechanically, her feet carried her to McGee's side. She took his hand in hers, the one that didn't have the IV or the finger probe or any of the other unknown wires attached to it. It was his hand, but it was all wrong, further adding to the surreal feeling. McGee's hands were warm. And they always held hers back. These hands were cool and lay limp within her grasp.

"_Abby, I'll be careful. I promise."_

"_No, McGee! That's not good enough." She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. "I don't want you to promise you'll be careful. I want you to promise that you'll come back."_

_She felt his sigh ruffle her pigtails. He laid his cheek on top of her head, holding her just as tightly as she held him. They both knew that wasn't a promise he could make, let alone keep. Saleem had killed Ziva, and now McGee and Tony were planning to infiltrate his camp. They all knew the danger. Ziva hadn't returned. There was a very real chance that Tony and McGee wouldn't either._

_She wouldn't admit it, she wouldn't even let herself complete the thought, but there was a part of her that feared when she let him go, she'd never see him again. It only made her cling tighter to him._

"_I'm not saying goodbye," she mumbled stubbornly into his shoulder._

"_Good. Because I'm not either." Gently he extricated himself from her stranglehold. He took her face between his palms and kissed her softly on the cheek, lingering a split second longer than usual. It was the only sign that, deep down, he shared that fear. But he was still going. For Ziva. "I'll see you when I get back, Abs."_

She felt his hand rest lifelessly in hers. Her throat closed up. She couldn't breathe. It hurt too badly.

This was it. She didn't know what to say… what did words matter now? She only knew that, even now, she still wasn't going to say goodbye.

_Anything_ but goodbye.

Slowly, as if someone else controlled her movements, she bent down and pressed her lips to his cheek. For just a moment, she laid her face on the pillow beside his. On the other side of the small room, she heard a quiet sniffle. Ziva, she thought. Abby was almost jealous of her tears… that she had the outlet. She hurt too much even to cry.

"I love you, Timmy," she whispered into his ear. In the end, that was all that mattered. Everything that needed to be said was enveloped in those words.

That she'd miss him. That he was her best friend. That she'd think about him every single day. That nobody had ever understood her like he did. That nobody had ever known the way her mind worked the way he had. That nothing would ever be the same without him.

_Nothing_.

She didn't hear anyone come up beside her, didn't know anyone else was there until she felt Gibbs' hand on her shoulder, steadying her. She brushed one final kiss to McGee's cheek and then let Gibbs help her to her feet. He kept his arm tight around her, supporting her, as they all four filed out of the room.

At the elevator, she turned to take one final look back. McGee's mother, sister, and grandmother were gathered around him, arms wrapped around each other. His father stood in the doorway. He nodded to the nurse. It was time. They were taking him off the machine that was keeping him alive.

The only thing strong enough to break through her grief just then was the flash of hatred she felt for the man that made the decision to take their McGee off the ventilator. In some distant part of her brain that was still capable of rational thoughts and emotions, she knew that decision couldn't have been one he made lightly. Despite their strained relationship, Tim was still his son. That didn't stop her from hating him, though.

The nurse shut the door to McGee's room behind her. And then the curtains to the glass walls. And then the elevator doors slid closed. The ding reverberated through the silent walls.

Abby's heart collapsed in on itself. There was only pain. She may have refused to say goodbye, but not saying it didn't make the finality of it any less real.

She was glad Gibbs drove them all home. She didn't remember anything after leaving the hospital. She didn't even realize that they were at her apartment until she was fumbling automatically through her bag for her keys. Gibbs took them out of her shaking hand and opened the door for her. He followed her inside, wrapping her in a tight hug as soon as the door closed behind them. He rocked her back and forth, his cheek pressed against hers. Her dry eyes stared blankly at the wall over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Abs," he whispered into her ear a long time later. Somewhere, in some corner of her mind, she recognized how wrong it sounded to have Gibbs apologizing. But she was too numb, too empty inside, to do anything about it. "Try to get some rest. I'll be by in the morning to check on you."

She just nodded, not bothering to tell him that his request for her to rest was useless. She was sure he already knew that.

He held her at arm's length, reading her. "Are you going to be all right?" he asked finally.

"I'll be fine, Gibbs." Her voice was scratchy. She wasn't even entirely sure it was her voice. "Go home."

He didn't look like he believed her. She didn't really believe herself either. She wasn't going to be fine. Not for a long, long time. Maybe not ever. Gibbs didn't argue, though. "Make sure you lock the door behind me, " he said. He pressed one last kiss to her temple and then he was gone.

She locked the door as he'd told her to. If not for his reminder, she probably wouldn't have thought about it at all. She wandered aimlessly into her living room. The video game McGee had loaned her a few weeks before sat beside her computer. She stared blankly at the case. She'd never be able to return it to him now.

There would be no more gaming marathons for them. No more movie nights. No more lunch dates. No more walks in the park with Jethro.

Abby had no idea how much time passed before she lifted her eyes to the picture board behind her computer – a bulletin board she'd wrapped in black fabric, crisscrossed with red ribbons that held her favorite pictures. Pictures of her family. Pictures of her team… of Gibbs and Kate and Tony… of Ziva and of McGee.

"_Abby, would you put the camera away? Please?" McGee griped at her, holding his hand in front of his face to block her lens._

"_Come on, Timmy, just one good picture," she pleaded with him, still snapping at random._

"_You already got a good one. Now put it away. People are staring," he hissed, squirming a little in his seat. They'd just finished lunch and were still sitting at their table outside as throngs of people passed them by._

"_So what? None of them know you, and you'll probably never see any of them again. I want a picture that looks like you know how to have fun. You're always so stiff in pictures," she informed him, waving away his protest._

_His face wrinkled in that adorable way of his. "No, I am not. And I _know_ how to have fun."_

"_Then prove it," she grinned mischievously at him. "One good, crazy picture." She could tell by the look on his face that he was caving. He always did eventually. He'd never been able to say no to her. Even when he probably should have._

"_One picture? And then you'll put the camera away?"_

_Abby crossed her fingers over her heart._

"_And you'll never _ever_ show it to Tony… or Gibbs… or Ziva?" he stared her down._

"_It'll be for our eyes only, McGee. Pinky promise." She held out her pinky across the table._

_He sighed deeply, but she could tell by his eyes that he wasn't really frustrated with her. He just wanted her to think that he was._

_He wrapped his pinky around hers to seal their promise and leaned over to put his face next to hers in front of the camera. Their expressions contorted as grotesquely as they could manage as Abby snapped the picture, their fingers still linked in the frame. The result had sent her into fits of laughter, but she'd refused to show McGee. After arguing at first, he'd given up, agreeing that it was probably best that he didn't see it He'd only want her to delete it. And she wasn't about to do that._

Abby's heart did that strange caving in thing again. But she barely felt it. She was too numb inside. It didn't matter that she'd just left the hospital, she almost expected to go to work tomorrow and see McGee there like nothing ever happened. She still didn't believe that if she called his phone right now he wouldn't answer. He always answered.

She picked up Bert from his perch on her coffin-bed and squeezed him tightly, sinking to the floor. The boxy frame of her bed was hard against her back, but she barely noticed the discomfort.

_Her back hit the wall, but she couldn't have possibly cared less. What she did care about was that one of McGee's hands had left her body and was fumbling along the wall around her._

"_What are you doing?" she tore her lips away from his long enough to ask._

"_The light," he gasped out in between kisses._

"_Don't need it." Any further protest was cut off by the heat of her mouth seeking his again. She guided him across the room, not needing the light to navigate her apartment. His hands were on her again, and that was all that mattered. She knew exactly what those hands could do. As skilled as those fingers were on his keyboard, they were even more skilled on her._

_The backs of his legs hit the wood frame of the coffin and he froze. In the dark, she could feel his face scrunch in confusion._

"_My bed," she explained before he could ask, turning her attention to his neck… to that particularly sensitive spot of his… the one that drew _that_ moan from his lips. _

"_Your bed is hard," he ground out the words, sounding confused._

"_It's a box sofa bed," she lied smoothly. The last thing she needed right now was him getting hinky about the coffin. And it was only sort of a lie. Definitely the lesser of the two evils._

"_What…" he started, but she cut him off, her fingers making quick work of buttons and buckles and zippers._

"_If you can still talk, then I'm obviously not doing something right," she whispered breathily into his ear, nipping it lightly with her teeth. His reaction was everything she'd hoped for. They tumbled onto the bed, all seeking hands, heated kisses, and tangled sheets. The time for talking was over. And it was a long time before they surfaced again._

Abby's eyes burned like she'd plunged a branding iron against them. But still the tears wouldn't come. Only memories, tormenting her.

McGee sneaking into the interrogation room to talk to her when she'd been part of a secret plot to flush out the mole in NCIS. He hadn't made any effort to hide the depth of his fear that she was in some kind of terrible trouble. But he hadn't doubted her. Not even for a second. Instead he'd jumped instantly to her defense.

McGee talking down his crazy stalker fan that had held her hostage, intending to kill her for hurting "Agent McGregor." The look in his eyes… the look that said he was terrified she was going to die right in front of him. The look that said he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to stop it.

McGee and his sweet protectiveness when she'd stayed in his apartment with him while hiding from her own crazy stalker. The way he kept his arms wrapped around her that night. The way he'd stayed awake all night, keeping watch over her. Anyone who wanted to hurt her would have to go through him first.

The time he'd bent protocol to grant a little boy his one Christmas wish of seeing his mom who was deployed overseas. She saw how happy it made him to watch the overwhelming joy of the little boy, but she knew ultimately he'd done it for _her_. To make her happy.

So many times… so many little ways he'd shown her over and over again how he felt about her.

_She was all but asleep on her feet, yet it only took her two steps before she realized that McGee was shadowing her footsteps. She spun around on her heel to see a look of dogged determination on his face. "Where are you going?"_

"_I'm going with you," he stated firmly. "As long as Cobb's still on the loose, we're not taking any chances."_

"_No, McGee. Shoo." She waved him off, even half asleep knowing that it probably wouldn't do any good. "I can take care of myself."_

_His eyes took on a deep intensity. "Abby, this is not just another random suspect. This guy is very bad news, and if something ever happened to you…" he cut himself off abruptly, realizing he was rapidly approaching waters they didn't tread into anymore._

_Maybe it was foolhardy of her, or maybe it was just sleep deprivation, but she asked the question she wasn't sure she wanted an answer to. "You'd what, McGee?"_

_He didn't answer. Not with words at least. It was in his eyes, laid out for her in a way she couldn't mistake or deny. Things she'd always known… things he'd never tried very hard to hide from her. Things he wouldn't say because he knew she didn't want to hear them. Things she felt but couldn't –or wouldn't – acknowledge._

_She didn't stop to think or analyze what she was doing, she just acted on instinct. Her arms wrapped tightly around him, holding him like he was her lifeline._

He loved her. He'd always loved her.

He loved her enough to be her friend, just to keep her in his life, even if that wasn't the kind of love he'd wanted.

He'd wanted to be her protector. Her hero.

He _was_ a hero… and not just hers.

He'd put his own safety second to saving the case files on Dearing… all the progress they'd made in his investigation… everything they needed to catch him. Whatever was on those files, whether it was new information or not, he'd considered worth risking his life for. He'd been clutching the flash drive in his fist, protecting it even while unconscious when they'd dug his bloody, broken body out of the rubble.

Abby's breath came in short, shallow bursts. And with the sudden uncontainable ferocity of a wild fire, she was furious… more furious than she'd ever been in her life.

He'd had time to get out! If he'd just gone when he'd had the chance and not worried about the case, he could've gotten outside before the bomb went off. If he hadn't been so damned determined to be a hero, he might not have been lying in a hospital room dying… or maybe already dead.

Why?

Why?

He'd had time. He could've gotten out.

He didn't have to get hurt.

He didn't have to leave them… to leave her.

Giving in to the rage that boiled over, she hurled Bert with all her might against the far wall, making a picture frame shake and teeter until it finally fell to the floor with a crash, glass scattering across the room.

And it was then, with the sound of shattering glass, that the dam finally broke. She buried her face in her hands, rocking back and forth on the floor and cried. She cried until she had no tears left and then cried more.

When her sobs finally ran their course, it was well into the night. She was exhausted – physically and emotionally spent. She didn't even have the energy to climb into her bed, she just curled into a ball on the floor and let sleep take her.

The sound of someone knocking on her door woke her later. She was disoriented at first waking to find herself on the floor, but everything came rushing back with the speed and destructive fury of a flood. Whoever was at the door knocked again, and she picked herself off the floor with a groan. Everything hurt. Inside and out. There wasn't one single part of her that didn't ache.

She didn't even glance through the peephole. Didn't care who was on the other side. But it was Gibbs. He didn't say anything, just held out the offering in his hands – a Caf-Pow and a muffin from the bakery down the street.

"I'm not hungry," she mumbled, standing aside enough to let him in.

"I'm not leaving until I see you eat something, Abs."

He was stubborn enough she didn't dare start that standoff with him. She didn't have the energy to fight with him. She took a quick swig of her drink and picked off a tiny piece from the top of the muffin, shoving it in her mouth. It tasted like sawdust, almost choking her on the way down.

"There. I ate something. You don't have to stay now."

He didn't seem to notice by her dismissal. He sighed and leaned back against her kitchen counter, seeming to debate over his words. "Abby, I talked to McGee's mother this morning."

"Gibbs, no," she held out one hand as if to ward off what he was about to say. Hearing that McGee was gone would make it final. And she couldn't handle final. She just couldn't…

Gibbs came to stand right in front of her, putting his hands gently on her shoulders. He wasn't going to let her hide from what he had to tell her. She couldn't understand why he was so intent on hurting her. It wasn't like him at all.

"It's not over yet, Abby," he told her quietly. "He's still fighting."

She wasn't sure at first that she'd heard him right. Maybe grief and lack of sleep was playing with her hearing.

"What…?" she finally managed to stammer.

"They took him off life support, but he made it through the night. That doesn't mean we won't still lose him, but it means he's got more fight in him than his doctors gave him credit for. As long as he's still breathing, we've got hope."

Hope. Abby's broken heart grasped onto the concept as if it was the only thing keeping her afloat.

Yet hope, they would find out in the coming days, was a very close relative of despair.

With every day that McGee fought to hold on to life, their hope grew stronger. With every day that he failed to regain consciousness, their despair grew in equal measure, both fighting for dominance.

Brain injuries like McGee's were impossible to predict, the doctors told them. That he'd been young and healthy, that his will to live was so strong, those factors worked in his favor. But with the severity of the swelling in his brain, there was no way of knowing when, or if, he'd ever return to them.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks crept into months, the likelihood of McGee ever waking up seemed less and less of a real possibility and more like a dream they clung to for their own sanity.

When his physical wounds healed enough for him to be considered stable, McGee was transferred to a more permanent facility, and they all fell into a new routine.

Abby visited him every night after work. She'd sit beside him, holding his hand, and tell him all about her day, the cases they were working, what was happening in the team, their progress rebuilding the damage the bomb had left behind… every little detail she could think of. And when Harper Dearing was put behind bars, she told him that, too. Even brought in the news article and tacked it to the board on his wall beside the pictures of the team and his family she'd hung for him.

She didn't know how much, if any, of what she said he could hear, but she talked as if he understood every word. It was one of her absolute worst fears, when she lay awake at night unable to stop herself from thinking about it, that he was somehow aware, just trapped. She imagined how terrible it would be to hear and think and be unable to move. To be trapped inside your own body, unable to make it obey even your simplest commands.

She hoped it just felt like sleeping to him. And maybe, just maybe, her presence there would bring him good dreams.

She worked with him religiously, going through the exercises that his doctor had recommended to reduce the atrophying of his muscles while he was in a coma. If he did wake up, keeping his muscles active would help his recovery.

She left Bert on the window ledge in his room to keep watch over him. And a week or so later added a stuffed German Shepherd that looked like Jethro. She thought it'd make him smile if he could see it.

Every Sunday night, when they weren't working a case, they all gathered in his room – Gibbs, Ziva, Tony, and Ducky when he was recovered enough to travel back to them. They'd bring in dinner, maybe a card game if they felt up to it. Whether he was aware they were all there or not, it was important to each of them that he knew they hadn't abandoned him. He was still one of them. And they missed him.

Eventually, even Abby ran out of words, and when she did, she'd pull out the books of poetry she'd brought from his apartment. She didn't care for poetry, but McGee did. She made sure she brought the most worn, the ones that looked like they'd been read the most. They'd be his favorites.

And before she left for the night, she'd turn on a jazz album, one of the albums he'd played when he wrote his books. She thought, maybe, when he woke up, he'd have more stories waiting to be written.

The first time Abby had felt his fingers twitch around hers, her heart had flown into her throat. She'd been convinced that he was waking up.

He hadn't. But every time since then, her heart would skip a beat whenever she'd feel that twitch of his fingers, see a flicker of his eyelid. It just fueled her hope that he was still with them after all. It was never more than that, though.

Abby sat in her chair beside his bed, fingers wound through his as she read softly to him.

_I stand amid the roar  
Of a surf-tormented shore,  
And I hold within my hand  
Grains of the golden sand –_

_How few! yet how they creep  
Through my fingers to the deep,_

She felt the now familiar twitch of his fingers as well as the corresponding leap and then fall of her heart when he still didn't wake. She tightened her grasp on his hand and kept reading, watching his face for any sign that her McGee was coming back to her.

_While I weep - while I weep!  
O God! can I not grasp  
Them with a tighter clasp?  
O God! can I not save  
__One__ from the pitiless wave?_

It wasn't really a twitch when his fingers moved again. It felt more like a squeeze. A weak one, yes, but still a squeeze. The book fell from her lap to the floor with a thud, and when it did, McGee flinched away from the noise. His forehead wrinkled as did the corners of his eyes.

She held his hand tighter and laid her other hand on his cheek. "C'mon, McGee, you've gotta quit teasing me like this," she pleaded quietly. "I know you can hear me. Just open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me."

He didn't. His hand went slack in hers. His face smoothed back out.

Abby went home that night and cried like she hadn't cried since right after the bombing. It wasn't fair. It just wasn't fair.

Hope was a double edged sword. With a ragged, cruel blade.

The next evening it was the same. And then the next.

On the fourth night, she didn't even pick up the book they'd been reading. Her heart hurt too much. She'd had about all she could take before she broke right in two. She laid her head on the bed beside his hand, laced her fingers through his. She was so tired. She'd been up to her eyeballs in evidence the last week, and then dealing with the constant cycle of hope and disappointment… she was just so… _tired_.

She didn't realize she'd dozed off until she heard her name.

"Abby…"

She jerked awake, rubbing the heel of her free hand against her eyes and glancing at the clock. It was late. It had gotten dark outside while she slept, and only a dim light from the hallway illuminated the room. She must have been sleeping deeper than she thought to have been dreaming. "Sorry, McGee. Didn't mean to fall asleep on you. I'll make it up to you tomorrow, okay?"

"Abby…?"

Abby's head snapped up, all traces of sleep gone now. She reached up to turn on the bedside lamp.

McGee flinched away from the light, but his eyes were open. And he was looking at her.

"McGee? I'm dreaming, aren't I? I'm still asleep… I must be," she babbled.

"Not dreaming… don't think..." Confusion was heavily laced through his voice, and he spoke slowly, lethargically, like he was out of practice, but he was talking.

He was talking to her.

And he knew who she was!

The doctors had warned them that even if he did wake up, it was very possible that his memory would be gone. Whether it was a temporary or permanent thing, there would be no way of knowing. But they should be prepared for the possibility.

She bent over him and gave him a sound kiss on the cheek. "You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now." His eyelids started drooping again, but a tired smile tugged at his lips. "I'll be right back. I have to go get your doctor. And then I have to call Gibbs and Tony and Ziva and Ducky and…"

"Don't go…" The words barely carried to her they were so faint.

"I'll be right back, McGee. I promise." She kissed his cheek again, squeezing his fingers. "Everything's going to be all right now. You'll see."

She doubted that he even heard her. He was asleep before she even finished speaking. But his fingers stayed curled around hers.

.

* * *

.

Down in her lab, Abby's fingers raced across her keyboard. At the computer beside her, McGee's hands worked like an extension of her own brain. It had been just over a year since the bombing. Much was still the same, and yet so much was different.

McGee had resumed his place on the team a few months ago. He still wasn't cleared for active field duty yet, but everyone was hopeful that he would be very soon. In the interim, he spent a large portion of his time down in the lab. And that was more than all right with Abby. It was almost like the old days, when he'd first joined the team, before he'd become so active in the field.

Some days, it was like nothing had ever happened to interrupt the flow of their teamwork. And then other days, Abby would look up and be surprised all over again to see McGee there. Surprise was always followed quickly by a profound sense of relief and thankfulness. Those were the times she'd hug him just because she could, or drape herself over his back as he typed, pressing her cheek to his. She knew it didn't make his job any easier to have her hanging off him like that, but he never once complained.

Normally Abby's focus was solid when she was working on a case, but her mind just wasn't fully engaged this time. She was distracted. Very distracted. She'd had a lot of time to think in recent months – think and wish and dream about what might have been. She'd denied it for a long time, but she was wondering now if she hadn't made a mistake. She just wasn't exactly sure how to go about trying to fix it.

She finally decided to just do it. Now. Quickly. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"McGee?" He grunted in response, still intent on his computer screen. "McGee, I think I love you." She blurted it out quickly, before she lost her nerve.

He glanced back at her with a half-grin. "I know you do, Abs. Like puppies. And you love puppies." He was teasing her, and she didn't know whether to be amused that he remembered that exchange from so long ago or aggravated that he wasn't taking her seriously. Then again, that really was her fault.

She'd always discouraged him from taking their relationship seriously in the past. From the very beginning, she'd always done her best to deflect the more serious aspects of their feelings for each other. She couldn't blame him for doing that now. It was what he'd learned to do to keep her happy.

"No," she shook her head until her pigtails bounced against her cheek. "I mean, yes, I do love puppies. But that isn't what I meant."

He turned his stool around to face her, giving her his full attention. "Okay. What _do_ you mean, then?"

She fidgeted with her hands in that way she did when she was anxious. They'd been down this road before, and it hadn't gone so well. She'd been against commitment, against permanence. But what if she'd been wrong? Or what if she said what she was thinking now and managed to mess everything up? What if things changed? What if they didn't work out?

She fought hard against the sudden onslaught of nerves. She'd thought about this so much… analyzed all the ways it could go wrong… imagined all the ways it could go right. There was no guarantee. She just had to trust her gut and go with it.

"I don't know… exactly," she said, realizing she was pacing restlessly from one end of the lab to the other. "I mean nothing's really changed, but everything's changed, you know?" She could feel herself starting to babble, and she knew she wasn't making much sense, even to herself.

"It's just… everything was all wrong when you weren't here. There was a great big McGee shaped hole everywhere I looked. I just… I missed you, McGee. Like, really, really missed you. A crazy amount. And I could never wrap my head around the fact that you might not ever really be back. That I might have to live with that hole for the rest of my life. And I hated it… I hated every second of it. But now you're back, and we've picked up right where we left off, but I don't know that I want to just pick up right where we left off before. I think… I want more, Tim."

She paused to take a breath, almost afraid to look at him. His eyes were an open book to her. Always had been. She wasn't exactly sure what she'd see when she looked into them now.

She felt him come to stand in front of her, not touching her, but she could _feel_ him all the same. "Abs?" His voice was soft. Hopeful. But almost fearful. "What are you saying?"

She took a deep, deep breath. "I want to give _us_ another try. I mean, if you want to… if you still… think about me that way…" she stammered when he didn't respond right away.

McGee chuckled lightly under his breath and stroked the length of her upper arms with his hands. "Abby, I started falling for you the first time I heard your voice. I haven't stopped. I won't ever stop." He enunciated each word carefully, leaning his forehead against hers. "You're sure about this?"

She nodded, the tip of her nose grazing his. "I just can't lose you again. No matter what. I need you to promise me that whatever happens you're always going to be here. I know that's selfish, but…"

"Then we'll be selfish together, Abs. Friends or more than friends, one way or another, you're stuck with me."

"Good."

He pulled back to look at her, raising one eyebrow quizzically. "But what about Rule 12?"

Abby laughed, looping her arms around his neck. "Everyone is entitled to be wrong once in their life. Even Gibbs." McGee looked at her in feigned shock that she'd insinuate Gibbs was _ever_ wrong. "And besides," she continued, "technically we broke that rule a long time ago."

"That's true."

She tightened her arms around him, bringing him closer, and laid her head on his shoulder. "I didn't just mess everything up, did I? We can make it work this time, right?"

She felt him lay his cheek on the top of her head. And she wasn't sure, but she thought she felt the brush of his lips there as well. It was light, like the brush of a butterfly wing. "We don't have to figure out everything today, Abs. We can take things as they come. We've got time."

_We've got time._

"Yeah," she smiled into his shoulder, "we do." Several heartbeats later, she tilted her head back to look at him. "Hey, McGee? This is the part where you're supposed to kiss me."

The look on his face was worth any anxiety she'd felt before. He smiled… that smile of his that wrinkled the corners of his eyes and warmed them all the way through. It was overjoyed. Exultant. Like he'd been given his every Christmas gift, every birthday wish all rolled into one. She could feel that smile on her lips when he brushed his mouth against hers, once, twice, like he was savoring her. And then his lips pressed against hers in that way that had been so familiar to her years ago.

One of his hands stroked the length of her back, settling low on her spine to draw her closer. The other hand cupped the back of her head, his thumb stroking over her jaw as the kiss deepened. She'd forgotten how easily they fit together, how right it felt. Or maybe she just hadn't let herself remember.

It wasn't until the need for oxygen made itself known that she pulled away. And even then it was only just enough to breathe. She rested her forehead against his, their noses brushing together. Her fingers played in the thick hair on the back of his head.

"Hey, Abs," he said breathlessly, stroking the length of one of her braids between his thumb and forefinger.

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

* * *

**The poem Abby was reading to McGee was Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allen Poe. The first and last flashbacks were taken from 6x06, Murder 2.0 and 8x24, Pyramid respectively.**

**This was one of those stories that grabbed me and wouldn't let go until I saw it in black and white in front of me. I didn't realize until I was wrapping it up how closely some of this parallels events that happened to a close childhood friend of mine. She was in a very bad accident and ended up in a prolonged coma. Writing about the thoughts and feelings one goes through when wondering if someone they care about is ever going to wake up was cathartic in a way I didn't even know I needed. Sadly, her story didn't have the same happy ending. She stayed in a coma for five years before passing away.**

**My little shipper heart couldn't take it if this story didn't have a happy ending, though. ;) I'm still refusing to believe that any of the team will be missing come Season 10!**

**Since this is my first foray into NCIS fanfic territory, I'd love to hear some feedback. That little review button is just waiting for your attention! Thanks for reading!**

**Nik**


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